Eorpa Extinct
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Kiku over-studies and Arthur over-works and over-worries, but when Alfred finds a weird, broken computer in a garbage pile, a bit suspicious, they realise they can drop their tasks just for a little bit. At least, so they think. The computer, examined by Alfred's genius brother, reveals an entire, dark, grim world crawling right beneath their floorboards.
1. Prologue - Digging it Up

Arthur felt like a leech when he peered over the doorway. He stared out into the tiny office, where the lamp, decorated with tiny stickers of cute animals and stars dancing at the base, illuminated the tight workspace. His roommate, Kiku, worked diligently on transcribing his notes, practicing math problems, and memorising history questions. All at the same time. He shuffled from flash cards to his graph paper to his swivelling pen. He kept it all in check. It was a perfect balance. But, much like perfectly balanced rocks, a breath in the wrong direction had it fumbling over. Arthur watched intently, knowing this. He didn't dare walk in or say a word. All the same, the diligence of his roommate fascinated him.

So much so that when the knock came at the door, and even though Arthur wasn't the one working, he grew vastly annoyed and unfocused.

"I'll get it," Arthur called, shuffling away. He tightening the draw string on his sweatpants just in case it was someone important. Knowing their small apartment, it probably wasn't. Arthur opened the door and found a grinning face lunging forwards to embrace him. Arthur felt the air squeeze out of him in an asthmatic wheeze. "Good lord." He huffed.

The man pulled away, smelling faintly of old spice and some other unpleasant things. Alfred beamed down at him. He had sweat and dirt all over his clothing, and now it was on Arthur, who had been meticulously bathed not too long before. He didn't hide his annoyance.

"What do you want?"

"What, no hello?"

"You're interrupting a study session."

"I am? All the better. Studying can be lame." Alfred stuck his tongue out. He kicked off his muddy shoes and walked in, scuffing his dirty jeans on the floor anyway. He walked into the office, which doubled as Kiku's room and laughed loudly. "Working your scrawny ass of in there?"

"Why are you here…" Arthur moaned, following along with a paper towel at his toes. He dragged it along the brown streaks Alfred dragged in.

Kiku was mumbling something that made Alfred go into a quite but glistening grin.

"Only a bit more, man, then you'll be Doctor Honda, huh? Man that's exciting. Spot check me, will you? I think I'm catching a disease."

"Being 'nagged on' is not a disease, Alfred." Kiku said quietly, trying not to smile.

Arthur fumed behind Alfred, biting back the many retorts that were about to sprout from him in a near endless stream.

"But he has a valid point, Alfred, why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Kiku set aside his pencil and folded his hands in his lap.

"Well, you're a doctor right? Think you could help me with some studying."

"This is no time to flirt." Arthur hissed.

"I am not flirting."

Kiku flushed, "Studying what? I am very busy, but I could help you in a few subjects, if you have a great need."

"Sure, let's go then!" Alfred's grin seemed a bit more sporadic than was the norm. He took Kiku's hand and dragged him out of his chair, leaving it swivelling in his wake. Arthur watched them part, Kiku in his jeans and plain white T-shirt, unable to ask enough questions. Arthur debated following for a few moments, and finally hesitantly sighed, changing into jeans and locking the door. Outside of the apartment, he could peer over the ledge of the balcony, into the smooth summer air. He saw Alfred and Kiku walking at a brisk, but slower pace and mumbling to themselves. Arthur, triple and quadruple checking that the door was locked, rushed after them.

"What is wrong with them?" Arthur had come down half the flight of stairs and saw Yao sitting on a porch seat, squinting with vehemence.

"I have no clue. Want to find out?"

Yao waved his hands and leaned back, his gardening gloves on his lap. The potted plants near him looked especially happy. "I am ok. I am curious, though. Tell me what you find. It better not be a new club, ah, that child. And he drags Kiku into this like a maniac."

Arthur watched Alfred and Kiku dim into the sloping hills of a park, which melded into more city. At any rate he would lose them. He continued after, not particularly worried. Alfred's nonchalance had set that tone, but the way he looked from that balcony told another story altogether. Why would he hunch like that? Because Kiku was short? No, maybe because it was something else. Maybe.

"Don't forget your keys!" Yao yelped after him, but Arthur had already eluded him. Yao held the slim apartment key in his hand, sighing. He'd be back for it. Probably. Hopefully?

Arthur watched Alfred and Kiku turn a corner, well past where Alfred lived on the bottom floor. Did he need help studying or was he going to try and seduce him? Whatever it was, Arthur was growing increasingly speculative, and also increasingly disgruntled by the smell.

Garbage.

A whole lot of garbage. The trucks had come in to clear the edges of the already small part to renovate and make something greater or cleaner or more pristine than the buildings around it. That meant digging up the giant heaps of unused furniture, bio-waste, food scraps, and mutilated electronics that had gathered at the edges. Children had long stopped coming to the park, and the new councilwoman insisted on clearing it up to make the city seem at least a little bit nicer.

Alfred and his small company were assigned to this particular park, and had appeared to be nearly done with the cleaning-up part. Arthur looked around as he passed the weedy trail, trying to avoid any shards of broken glass or soggy cigarettes. Several of Alfred's men had also gone on lunch, munching on tomato and bacon sandwiches, drinking soda, and overall ignoring Arthur.

Alfred and Kiku had ended up in the furthest corner.

"What are you guys doing?" Arthur called, feeling distinctly like a nagging crone.

The two men were crouched over a pile of, what seemed to Arthur, completely unremarkable garbage. It was piled on top of a beaten dumpster, scrawled over with graffiti referring to someone's mom and a Stephanie who promised a great time. The garbage here did not smell as bad, only musty.

"Arthur, hey." Alfred turned, finally seeing him. "Did you jog? You're panting."

"I am fine," Arthur huffed, "I ran because you were going so fast and I got worried."

"You always worry."

"For good reason, dip-shit."

"Stop fighting," Kiku said, without raising his voice. Yet it shut them up. He returned to whatever he had been discussing before.

Beneath a mound of broken dolls, their eyes popped out, a few legless chairs, china plates crushed, a dresser that had been completely eviscerated, was a computer. It stood out, a stark slash of chrome technology in the scatterings of an antique shop. Kiku, wearing gloves Alfred had leant him, pushed open the front.

"But yeah, see, the keyboard's totally busted. You can see the wiring and everything."

"Well, they'd have to try harder to erase the hard drive." Kiku said, "Anyone who knows how to get in can probably scavenge some data. Isn't your brother an IT guy?"

"Yeah, but this is way beyond his league."

"You never know, Alfred."

Alfred shrugged, taking it into consideration.

"Why is a computer so important?" Arthur felt insignificant, like a squashed fly buzzing lamely about.

"It doesn't fit into it surroundings, first off." Kiku said, staring intently at the screen and dropping silent.

"And around it are a few USB drives that are, well." Alfred picked out the tiny shards of hardware and showed them to Arthur. "Who would want to destroy something so bad?"

"Somebody who doesn't want to be caught and is none of our business."

"Wait," Kiku raised a hand. "Come closer. Look, something is ghosting on here."

"But the computer can't be that old," Arthur said, finally submitting to his curiosity. He and Alfred bent closer. Arthur squinted, it was hard to see, it seemed that whatever image had burned on to the screen was nearly gone.

"Well, no, it's not common on newer screens, but if you stay on a static image long enough…" Kiku nodded. "This happens. Does it look like words to you?"

"Kind of. Looks demonic." Alfred chuckled. Uneasily.

Arthur watched the face burned into the screen and felt a bit odd. He turned away, not wanting to know anymore than the vague outline.

"Why did you bother bringing Kiku into this? He should be studying." Arthur began to buzz again.

Alfred sighed.

"There's more weird stuff. Plus, this whole lot's got to be cleaned by tomorrow morning."

Kiku collected the laptop and held it out to Alfred. "Give it to your brother if you're curious. As for the other thing, I'll keep it." Kiku said, looking at an unused cookie tin.

"There's another thing?"

Alfred smiled. "Sure. Knew you'd like it."

"Like it? It's fascinating. Here, look."

He opened the cookie tin, and Arthur was disappointed not to find any cookies inside. Instead there were sheets of yellowed paper scrawled over with endless notes that made his head hurt. And, beneath that, a sheet of what seemed to be specimens. Insects of some sort, all weird and unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

There were six, and they ranged from spindly, roughly organic dragon-fly things to a hexagonal insect with too many legs on one side. They were laminated, forever glued to their eternal position as fake bugs. The extensive notes done in bad, cramped handwriting seemed almost juvenile, and all at once eerie. They seemed almost too real.

"Pretty lifelike, aren't they?" Kiku said, raising his voice almost to a pitch of excitement.

"Ah, yeah."

"A biologist's, well a me biologist's, dream come true."

"Cheers, Kiku." Arthur managed a smile at last.

Alfred had already returned to his men and clapped his hands loudly. "Lunch is over boys!" He called, "Back to the good old grind."

A few friendly grumbles resounded, following Alfred's command back to their stations. Arthur watched them mill around, somewhat like insects, roaming to the task at hand. Kiku started walking ahead.

"Ah," Arthur stuck his hands into his pockets, "I may have lost our keys."

And, at that moment, Yao did too.


	2. Insectomania

1

Insectomania

Kiku lay in the bathtub. Relaxing. Enjoying the few moments when his eyes shut, and not before a million yards of endless math and numbers and definitions. Now, washing behind his eyes, were the bugs. He sunk further into his bath, letting the suds rise to his chin and give him a pseudo-beard. He imagined each one, crisp in his mind from having poured over them the second he returned from the dump. He worried he wouldn't be able to, seeing as Arthur had lost his key. Luckily, when they got back, it appeared that Arthur had forgotten to lock the door - oddly out of character, but then again he was worried and frantic - and they entered peacefully. Nothing had been broken into or stolen, much to Arthur's vast relief. Arthur called the landlord for a new key and Kiku immediately went to his studies, to the insects, for four hours. Obsessive perhaps. Arthur, having finished an argument with the landlord, came in several times to complain that Kiku was going to get a headache from staring and did he think they'd come to life or something? But Kiku didn't mind. He only gave Arthur an insipid smile and went back to his staring.

At around hour two, he picked up a pen and began to draw them in painstaking detail. He hadn't finished, yet, he had only gotten to the second one. The spiralling, odd, cone-headed caterpillar proved difficult, and it was getting late.

Kiku sighed, rubbing his hair with a glop of shampoo. Maybe they were meant to find him? He had always wanted a minor in entomology. Instead he had gone for math. He rubbed his hair, feeling its smoothness glide beneath his fingers.

Outside of the bathroom Arthur knocked raptly.

"I ordered take-out. You hate my food, anyway." He grumbled and walked away.

"Thank you." Kiku called back out, opening one eye through the suds.

Usually Kiku cooked, but he had been busy. Kiku pulled his hands out of his hair, his palms feeling mossy. Weird. He looked at them, still wondering why he hadn't made dinner that night.

His hands were covered in hair.

Maybe he was just so caught up in his studies?

Why were his hands covered in wispy threads of his hair?

He's getting obsessed — stressed.

Only then did Kiku panic. He ran his hands through his hair again, feeling another clump fall out. And another. And another. Soon the bathtub had little boats of his hair floating around, drifting this way and that, closer and closer. Kiku launched out of the bathtub, scrambling for a towel. He turned to the mirror, his heart catching at every beat.

The mirror showed his hair all there, in fact, too much of it. He reached up, feeling his arms tremble, and touched the top of his head, dragging his fingers down, slowly, and another massive wad came out. He stared at the soapy, black sponge. He squished it.

It felt harder than hair should. He dropped it in shock and rubbed his head, feeling more of these clumps fall out, landing on his back and shoulders, making his skin crawl. He bounced around them, hearing them land in a soggy plop on the ground. Tears brimmed in his eyes. What the hell was going on? He called out.

"Kiku are you ok?"

"Ah, I'm perfectly fine." His voice strained.

"You do not sound fine!" Arthur immediately went shrill and began to jiggle the doorknob.

"Don't come in! Have you no decency?" Kiku pressed against the wall, staring at his mounds of spidery hair.

And moved.

Hair didn't move.

Was it lice?

He doubted lice could be big or powerful enough to move an entire clump of hair. They rotated, slightly, like tarantulas, and began to encroach on the bathtub. The ones in there had congregated, into one swath of hair, and rumbled. The soap bubbled around them. Kiku flushed, he wondered how his blood pressure would take this.

"I will come in, I have a key, Kiku." Arthur called, thumping on the door. "You sound like you're going crazy. Let me in."

"I am fine, give me privacy, please." But Kiku's voice broke in sobs.

"Uh, no." Arthur pushed the door open.

He found Kiku huddled in a corner, sitting on a towel but otherwise a naked mess of soap and long, red scratches down his body. Arthur rushed over. Kiku had screwed his eyes shut and gave a yelp when his roommate grabbed him brutishly.

"Sit up, you…" Arthur pulled him forwards, rubbing the water and soap from Kiku's face. "Are you crazy? What happened?"

"Don't you see them? They're everywhere!"

"What, the few hairs you shed?" Arthur picked up one of the few strands he could see of fine black hair and held it before Kiku, who reluctantly opened his eyes.

"What…? But there was more."

"Look," Arthur sighed, crouching before him in his bright green sweats and rock n' roll t-shirt, looking serious. "You are stressed for your final exams, the weirdness today didn't help, you always shed a bit of hair, and you haven't eaten since last night. You refused breakfast. Breakfast! The only vital part of the day. Now come and eat and get dressed."

Arthur's cool rationality, his placid stare, and Kiku seeing what Arthur saw - only a few fine hairs and water splattered everywhere - let Kiku stop shivering and stand up.

"Ah, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Come eat." Arthur turned away. "I got sandwiches from the Marigold Grove. Now, come."

Kiku did just so. As they ate, the sandwiches being fine as ever, Kiku pulled at his hair occasionally. He found it firmly in place, and felt better. Maybe he did hallucinate, no matter how real it was. Maybe the heat of the bath got to his head on an empty stomach. Who knows? At least he could relax now, watching the television broadcast of some lame cooking show Arthur adored. He'd hold off his studies. A little Kiku-time wouldn't hurt.

. . .

 _Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immune, in nomine Dei—_

 _Stupid, I see your lies. I see the truth running behind you, I see them like shadows, I see your sin, I see your blood— I AM YOUR BLOOD I AM YOUR SIN —do you think you can run from me, daddy?_

 _Blood curdling scream._

 _Fade to black._

 _Two members of the audience looked towards one another and rolled their eyes. You'd think people would be over this bullshit? It's the twenty first century. Demons mean nothing. Right?_

 _How do I know you're not a demon?_

 _Do you?_

. . .

Matthew hated it. He hated this computer, he hated the hard drive, he hated the broken ass piece of keyboard that, supposedly, held all the secrets to immortality according his his brother. Alfred leaned over his shoulder, watching Matthew, watching the screen.

"How's it going?"

"Ah, it's ok."

Terrible, thank you very much, I hate this thing. Matthew smiled. It's terribly boring. He'd already done this a million times before.

"You're angry."

"I'm fine."

"No, uh, you're trembling. I can see that much. I've only know you since, what, we were babies? Not too long ago." Alfred rolled his eyes. "Anyway, what's bugging you?"

"I don't feel that this is clean. Or useful."

"That's why you don't use your personal computer for shit like this." Alfred ignored his second sentiment.

Matthew looked at the dull screen of the laptop. "It's not mine." He fiddled with the wire that connected the chipped hard drive to the other computer. He had gotten it to connect, even though both were dingy and one was beaten with a hammer and the other with god knows what. "I found glass in between the keys."

"Weird. Wouldn't a normal person just step on it?"

"Maybe. If it really had bad stuff, like that other time you got me to hack some dumpster computer, then they would have totally wrecked this thing. Maybe I'm giving people too much credit…" he sighed. Despite his anger, his voice continued to come out soft and gentle. It sprung a leak of warmth in Alfred, who rubbed his brother's head affectionately.

"Let's hope they are. We could get cash for ratting people like this out."

Matthew sighed, clicking through file after file.

To Alfred, a lowly outdoor workmen, all he saw was jumbled letters and absolute nonsense. He went away, popping open a can of beer and downing it. "I'll leave you to it. Call me if you find anything interesting—that I can understand." He laughed. Matthew waved him off, staring at the words that blinked by, black on white on a dull blue background.

DATA STORAGE

INSECT - 3212-3312

ENTORESEARCH

The computer yipped at him with each on. Beeping through each word document, all full of Latin writing, namely scientific. A few had lists of codes. Some was in English. Oddly enough.

 _Observation 004. Dark wings. Mothy. Oddly earthy. Attracted to light. Eats grains given out. Very ravenous. Eats all there is in a period of 3 - 5 minutes. Tested with used/damaged clothes. Moths seem to eat alone, some sort of instinct. Left. Came back and all cloth was gone, but only evidence of two moths in area._

 _Observation 118. Threat level theta. Small but has fangs that resemble hypodermic needles, when observed under microscope. . . ._

Matthew began to glaze over the information, finding it of little interest. Must have been some sort of biologist. Maybe he had gotten so upset over his lack of productivity that he tossed his notes, or had found something sinister? The latter would be too fun.

 _Observ. 9999. Odd. Creature is bright red and venomous. Bites often._

 _Obsr. 778. Humid air attracts specimen. Does not eat anything given to it. Seems to dine by itself. Usually more luck._

 _Obsr. Expr. 001. Begin with specimen 001. Unresponsive. Too large._

The next file said EXPR 001 - 020. This was composed entirely in Latin and some other symbols that remained incomprehensible. The file after that said FAILATTEMPT and, now that Matthew had reached somewhere in the middle, the file names had all degraded into numbers. All except for two. One said PT1. And the other PT1.

He began to scroll further, but ended up hitting a block demanding for a password. Which caught Matthew off guard. "Weird." Someone really wanted to protect whatever was in there, past all the other data. Encryption? But the password pop-up was distorted, it didn't seem like he could enter he could enter anything on the screen. Maybe it was meant to look so… unsettling.

Matthew drooped the cord, his fingers burning from the heat. The cord had suddenly burst into a rope of slithering heat. He clutched his hand closer to him, fear rising up like acid in his throat. The other hard drive was beginning to grunt and click at him, despite not being to connected to any sort of power source. Matthew tried to exit out of the password pop-up.

D E N IED

He clicked on it again.

DE NIED DENI ED DENIED DENIED

The computer bubbled with error message sound bites. Matthew tried to shut off his computer altogether. It only continued squeal at him. He grabbed at the connecting cord, which still burned, and tore it off. It cluttered on to the desk. After a moment, Matthew's old laptop finally died, turning off with a small noise of defeat.

Alfred came in, concern on his face. He had heard the noise.

"Anything interesting?"

"Just a virus." Matthew lowered his hand. He pushed away from the desk.

"Oh. Lame."

Matthew stared at his laptop, now dead silent. It refused to turn on. When he unscrewed the laptop, and peered at the hard drive, it was in perfect condition. Nothing was melted, nothing had cracked. Not that Matthew was surprised, viruses don't have the ability to destroy the device. Then why was he so relieved? And why did he feel so uneasy? He touched the cord, tentatively, but it was cool as if it never had heated up to begin with. The sting in his fingers had long dissipated.

"So, did you get anything from it? It looked like there was stuff on it."

"Eh, it was just a bunch of weird scientific data files. And anyway, it wrecked my computer. I don't have endless old ones, Al. Not for your weird games. It's creepy - and look! I can't use this one ever again." Matthew sighed.

"Can't you check or try?"

No. He couldn't. Matthew only shook his head. He knew it was the end of his computer. Although he had never seen it done anywhere else. It was an undoable virus. He had programmed it to be so.


End file.
